Greetings, my curious kinky companions, the Marquis de Mayfair at your beck and call. Or perhaps, it is you who are at mine, for a dozen delicious days, I shall indulge you in a tale woven from the most luxurious of threads—a story rich with sensuality, discovery, and the type of festive frolics that would make even a poinsettia blush.
Now, pay close attention, for I am about to begin my fabulous freaky fable of the '12 Kinks of Christmas.' This is no ordinary winter’s tale—it is one of the corruption of innocence, of steamy passion and luxurious licentiousness, a story that will stir your senses and ignite passions as fiercely as a roaring log fire in this most sensual of seasons.
It all began as the snow fell softly across London early one Christmas morning. Inside a grand Georgian townhouse, nestled in the heart of Mayfair, a young couple—Alexander and Elara—awoke to the warmth of their luxurious home. The house, filled with the charm of its storied past, whispered secrets through its creaking floors and ornate details. They stirred in their lavish four-poster bed, cocooned in love, sharing their gentle morning ritual—a kiss, a laugh, and their cherished words: "A hug in the morning, a hug in the evening, and the rest of the day is easy."
With joy, they strolled hand in hand down two floors to the kitchen, where they prepared their traditional Christmas breakfast—scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, each dish paired with a flute of champagne. The festive air was light, their love for each other as warm as the heat from their Aga stove.
Their grand living room, draped in festive splendour, was crowned by a towering Christmas tree adorned with mementos of their seven years together: a delicate Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building, a grand Big Ben, and a miniature London taxi carrying a Christmas tree. The couple exchanged gifts, laughing and sharing tender embraces.
But then, as the morning sun shone through the large sash windows and bathed the room in golden light, their eyes fell upon one remaining present, a large box—one they hadn’t placed beneath the tree. It was wrapped in deep royal blue paper with a golden card that gleamed as if enchanted by a spell. Elara picked up the card, her brow furrowing as she read aloud a poem:
“My gift to you, are the 12 Kinks of Christmas,
Each will release hidden passions to experience,
For once a mind’s expanded, it cannot contract,
And when kink awakens, there's no going back.
Surrender to sensation, don’t resist and don’t fight,
Twelve luxuries I bring, each an erotic delight,
With love and allure, enjoy this affair,
To pleasures untold, the Marquis de Mayfair.”
She looked up at Alexander, her expression both puzzled and intrigued. "The Marquis de Mayfair... wasn’t that the gentleman who once owned this house? But how on earth did his gift find its way under our tree?"
With a glance exchanged between them, a current of excitement stirred the air. They set aside their other gifts and carefully unwrapped the mysterious box. It was a beautiful chest, the size of a its black exterior etched with an elegant design. The golden clasps holding the lid shut shimmered, as though daring them to open it.
Their breath hitched as they lifted the lid, and they both gasped. Nestled in the crimson velvet interior was an array of gleaming treasures—objects of the finest craftsmanship, each one exuding a luxurious allure. There were leather restraints, both for wrists and ankles, adorned with golden hardware that caught the light. Next to them, a leather hogtie and a sleek black choker with a matching leash lay waiting, the scent of fine Italian leather rich and intoxicating.
Elara’s fingers grazed the surface of the soft leather, her touch slow, deliberate, as if the leather was inviting her in. The sensation sent a shiver up her spine—a promise of discovery.
As they removed the top shelf of the box, a second layer was revealed. This held a black ostrich feather mounted on a golden handle, a large leather paddle, and a lavish flogger, each tool begging to be touched, explored, and used in ways they had never imagined.
Finally, they lifted the final shelf to unveil five golden objects: a delicate spoon-like object, a small wheel with sharp spikes around the edge, a blindfold, and long elasticated golden clamps. The golden spoon caught Elara’s eye first, its purpose a mystery yet to be revealed. She held it gently, running her fingers along its smooth surface as her imagination began to stir. Each item seemed to tell a story, each whispering a promise of pleasures untold.
The couple exchanged a look. They laughed in astonishment. Both of them were traditional when it came to sex, they both had adventurous spirits and had travelled the world together on many holidays but their bedroom had always remained a place of safety and tenderness, they had never experimented with toys or bondage.
They didn’t need to speak; the air between them crackled with unspoken understanding. The Marquis had left them a gift that called to something deep inside them—a desire they hadn’t known lay dormant. The chest had become an invitation, a doorway to a new world of discovery, sensuality, and luxury.
They placed the chest back under the tree, realising they were running late and needed to prepare for their families' arrival for Christmas lunch. The afternoon was filled with laughter, drinks, and a lively game of charades. By the time their families left, both were tipsy and exhausted. Elara headed upstairs for a long, hot bath, while Alexander changed into his fine dressing gown and pyjama bottoms, switched on the sitting room TV catching the start of The Wizard of Oz, his stomach aching from too much figgy pudding and brandy sauce and before Dorothy had left Kansas he had dozed off.
As he slept, his dreams were haunted by a deep English voice, repeating over and over, “Once a mind is expanded, it cannot contract. Surrender to sensation, surrender to sensation, surrender to sensation…”
Meanwhile, in the ornate roll-top bath, Elara had slipped into a drowsy half-awake state. The warm relaxed her body as her mind drifted, strange images and thoughts danced in her imagination, silhouettes of a couple embracing and kissing, she felt a growing sense of arousal between her legs and as the steam rose from the bath, to her unfocused eyes it seemed to form the words: Surrender to sensation.
Her gaze fixed on the steamy text as her hand moved instinctively to touch herself, the words echoing in her mind: Surrender to sensation, surrender, surrender. The heat of the bath, the gentle motion of her fingers, the interlocking figures in her mind and the weightlessness from the deep water was like an intoxicating aphrodisiac that made her feel lightheaded and sexually charged.
As her orgasm was building, Alexander burst into the bathroom. “I want to play,” he said, his voice thick with intent. In his right hand, he held the leather choker from the Marquis’s chest. “I want to play with you now, Elara.”
Spontaneously, words bubbled up from the depths of her arousal and for the first time in her life, she said the words… “Yes, Sir.”